by Marta Perry
“Can I have that in writing? Maybe we can use your endorsement to recruit future volunteers.”
Future volunteers. For an instant her smile faltered. Grant would leave, and someone else would come. That was the way things were.
He didn’t seem to notice her momentary lapse. “Sure, I’ll give the program an endorsement. How about—”
He stopped when the door at the back of the office opened. For an instant her heart seemed to stop, too, when Joey poked his head in.
“Maggie, can I have—” He sniffed. “Hey, you got pie in here?”
Grant waved his fork. “Come on in. You can help us eat this.”
Maggie fought to control the tension that galloped along her nerves. What was Joey doing out of the house when she’d told him to stay put? And how long would it take Grant to realize the boy should be in school?
“He needs to have lunch first.” She caught the boy’s shoulders and turned him toward the door. “You go on back to the kitchen. I’ll bet Aunt Elly has lunch ready.”
“But, Maggie—”
“Go on, now.”
Grant slid a piece of pie onto a paper plate. “The woman’s a slave driver, Joey. Here, have this after lunch.”
Joey turned back to take the pie.
Get him out of here, her mind shouted. Get him out fast, before Grant realizes he shouldn’t be here.
“Okay, off you go.” She shepherded Joey and the pie to the door, then closed it behind him.
She could breathe again. Grant hadn’t caught on.
She turned back to him, planting a smile on her lips. And found him looking at her with raised brows.
“Nice job, Maggie. You want to tell me why Joey isn’t in school today?”
She’d relaxed too soon. And she didn’t have a plausible story ready to offer him.
Grant folded his arms, waiting. “You’re not going to tell me he’s sick. The kid’s the picture of health.”
“No.” She tried to force her limp brain to work. “I’m not going to tell you that.”
“Well?” He shoved himself away from the desk, taking the two strides that covered the space between them. “What’s the story, Maggie?”
This might have been easier if he’d stayed where he was. But he didn’t want to make it easy, did he?
When she didn’t speak, his gaze probed her face. “Something’s wrong. What? You can tell me.”
Could she? She wanted to. It would be such a relief to trust him.
But then Joey’s face formed in her mind. For a moment it seemed her own face flashed before her, back when she’d been lost and alone.
No. She didn’t know Grant well enough to trust him with a secret like this one. She never would.
She took a deep breath. “It’s nothing that serious. Joey’s just been…a little upset, that’s all.”
Upset. That was putting it mildly. His world was turned upside down, but he was still managing to smile.
“Upset about what?”
“About his mother being away.” That part was true enough. The rest of the story held the difficulty.
“Natural enough. That doesn’t explain why he isn’t in school.”
Grant certainly wouldn’t make this easy.
“I talked with his teacher.” Also true. “With his father’s death only last month and his mother away, it’s been hard on him.”
She might as well stop rationalizing. The words were true enough, but all of the things she left out turned them into one big falsehood.
“We decided it might be better to keep him out of school for a few days. His mother will be back soon, and he’ll settle down then. It’s almost time for Christmas break anyway, and there’s a retired teacher who’s offered to give him some individual help.”
She managed to look at Grant, gauging his reaction. He shook his head slowly.
“Poor little guy. I didn’t realize he’d lost his dad so recently.”
Joey was a poor little guy, but not for the reasons Grant supposed. “It’s been a difficult time.”
Grant touched her hand. “You’re a good friend to help out this way.” His eyes were as warm as his fingers against her skin. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
“Thanks.” She managed a smile. “I can’t think of anything, but thanks.”
Somehow it had been better when he’d doubted her and criticized her. His sympathy just made her feel worse. And if he ever learned the truth…
Well, she wouldn’t need to worry about dealing with his sympathy then. He’d have none at all if he ever found out how she’d deceived him.
Chapter Five
If guilt were a disease, she’d be flat on her back by now. Maggie beat the cookie batter with a wooden spoon, taking some pleasure in the vigorous activity, as if the batter were to blame for her predicament.
Unfortunately, she was the only one at fault, and she knew that perfectly well. For the past two days she’d been playing and replaying in her mind that conversation with Grant about the children, trying to find some better way of handling it.
She hadn’t. She couldn’t tell him the truth, and she couldn’t stomach lying. So somehow, she’d have to learn to live with this uncomfortable feeling.
“Isn’t it ready yet, Maggie?” Tacey propped her chin on the wooden table, her blue eyes huge in her small face.
“Almost ready.” Maggie sprinkled flour on the table and then began rolling the cookie dough with the heavy wooden rolling pin Aunt Elly had given her. Maybe her piecrust always crumbled to pieces, but she had a good hand with Christmas cookies.
“I want to cut out a wreath.” Tacey clutched a metal cookie cutter in one hand, tapping it against the table. “Can I?”
Maggie smiled at her, her heart filling. “You sure can, sweetheart.”
At least she still knew one thing for sure, no matter how many sleepless nights it cost her. These children had to be protected until Nella came back.
“I don’t want to do any old wreath.” Joey scrambled onto a chair. “I’m gonna make a reindeer.”
Robby reached up to snatch a piece of dough and pop it in his mouth, then looked around as if to be sure no one was watching.
“You can all make whatever you want,” Maggie said. “They’re your cookies. But remember, it’s only right to share them.”
Three little heads nodded solemnly. The Bascoms had never had much, but what they did have, they shared.
That was a sign of how good a mother Nella could be, now that Ted wasn’t around to make her life a misery. As soon as Nella herself realized that—
Soon, Lord. It will be soon, won’t it? I know Nella needs to come back on her own, so she knows she’s strong enough to do the right thing. But please, let it be soon.
“Okay.” Maggie made a final pass at the dough. “You guys can start cutting out, while I take the last batch out of the oven.”
She moved to the stove, a blast of heat warming her face as she slid the cookie sheets out. She’d just put the trays on a cooling rack when someone knocked. Wiping her hands on a tea towel, she opened the door.
Grant stood on her doorstep, holding a sheaf of papers in his hand.
“Hi. Have you got a moment?” He glanced past her, obviously noting the children busy at the table. “It looks as if you haven’t.”
She didn’t want to talk with him, not with the memory of her falsehoods making a heavy ball of guilt in her stomach. But she could hardly say so. She stepped back, holding the door wide.
“That’s okay. Come in.”
He stepped into the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively. “It always smells good in here.”
“We’re doing our Christmas cookie baking.” She glanced at the kids, then realized Robby had just slid a whole section of dough onto the chair, covering himself with flour in the process.
“Hold on a sec.” She rescued the dough, then dusted Robby off. “Let’s keep everything on the table, okay?”
Robby nodded, stuffing another p
iece in his mouth.
She heard a low chuckle from behind her.
“I never knew cookie baking was so hazardous.” Grant leaned over to look, keeping a careful distance between himself and the mist of flour in the air. “Maybe you ought to wear masks.”
“A little flour never hurt anyone. You can’t make cut-out cookies without also making a mess.”
She was suddenly aware of her appearance, her sweatshirt dotted with a fine white dust and her jeans probably bearing the marks where she’d wiped her hands. Grant, of course, looked spotless in khakis and a forest-green sweater.
“I wouldn’t know about that,” he said. “I’ve never made any cookies.”
Immediately three pairs of blue eyes focused on Grant’s face.
“You never made Christmas cookies?” Joey sounded incredulous. “Everybody makes Christmas cookies with their mama.”
Was she imagining it, or did Grant’s face stiffen?
“Not me,” he said.
Tacey slid off her chair. She reached out tentatively and tugged at Grant’s hand. “You can make my share,” she whispered, as if afraid to speak out loud in his presence.
Maggie’s throat tightened. Did Grant realize what a generous gift the little girl had offered?
No, of course he didn’t. He didn’t know that Tacey never voluntarily got within reach of a man’s hand. He didn’t know how rare something as simple as a quiet afternoon baking cookies was for her.
Grant looked down at the child with surprise and a hint of some other emotion flickering in his eyes. “I don’t want to take yours,” he said softly.
“We all share.” Joey’s voice was firm, and he gave Robby a look that dared him to disagree.
Robby nodded. “Share. Mommy says share.”
Maggie waited for Grant to make some excuse that would take him right back out the door, but instead he nodded.
“Then I’d like to.”
Well, so much for keeping Grant away from the kids. “If you’re going to bake, you’d best take off that sweater. Or I have an apron you could wear.”
The corner of Grant’s mouth twitched. “Think I’ll pass on the apron.” He peeled off his sweater, revealing a cream button-down shirt. “Will this do?”
She nodded. “At least it’s pretty much the same color as the flour. And you can wash it.”
What was Grant doing about his laundry? It hadn’t occurred to her to wonder. She suspected he wasn’t used to doing it for himself.
“That’s fine.” He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled the sleeves back. “I’m ready. Somebody show me what to do. Tacey?”
Afflicted with sudden shyness, Tacey shook her head, finger in her mouth.
“It’s easy,” Joey said. “Just press down with the cutter, like this, and then Maggie will help you put the cookie on the sheet.”
“I imagine Dr. Grant can do that for himself,” Maggie said.
Grant, head bent as he cut out a reindeer, tilted his face toward her. He smiled, a strand of brown hair falling onto his brow, his eyes crinkling. “I have to have Maggie’s help, too. I’d probably break off a reindeer’s leg if I tried to do it myself.”
His smile had the same effect on her as opening the oven door had. She could only hope he’d think her rosy cheeks were from the baking.
“Maybe I’d better do it then.” She cut out a church-shaped cookie. “We wouldn’t want the doctor to cause a trauma.”
His lips quirked. “You might have to report me to the county medical board.”
“What’s a tray-mom?” Joey’s voice was loud, as if he’d noticed the byplay and didn’t like it.
“Trauma,” she corrected. “It’s an injury.”
The boy frowned. “Like when I got my arm broke?”
Her stomach cramped. “Like that,” she agreed. None of the Bascoms had ever budged from their story that Joey had broken his arm falling out of the apple tree last spring. She’d had her own ideas about how he’d been hurt, but no proof.
“All ready, Nurse.” Grant straightened. “Will you transfer the patient to the cookie sheet?”
Joey grinned as she slid the spatula carefully under the reindeer. “Betcha can’t do it, Maggie.”
“You’re saying that because you know reindeer are the hardest. Just a little more—”
The reindeer’s foreleg crumbled.
“Broken,” Tacey whispered.
Grant chuckled. “Looks as if we’ll have to set the patient’s leg.”
He reached across the table, his arm brushing Maggie’s as he molded the dough back together again. Another wave of warmth swept over her. Really, if the man stayed around long enough, she wouldn’t need much firewood for the winter.
“Done.” Grant dusted off his hands. “I predict a full recovery.”
Joey leaned over to inspect. “It’ll break again when we take it off the pan,” he predicted.
“The cookie will taste just as good,” Maggie said. “Come on, now. Let’s get this last tray finished, and soon it will be time to eat some.”
Tacey was staring at Grant instead of cutting out her cookies. “Dr. Grant?” Her voice was soft as a snowflake drifting to the earth. “Why didn’t your mommy bake cookies with you?”
Grant was standing so close that Maggie could feel him stiffen at the question. Apprehension rose in her. If he snubbed the child for her innocent words…
He seemed to force a smile. “My mommy didn’t like to do things like that.”
“Didn’t like to do things with you?” Clearly that was beyond Tacey’s comprehension. “Why? Were you bad?”
She ought to intervene. Still, what could she say?
Grant’s expression hadn’t changed, but something lurked in the depths of his eyes that wrenched her heart. What kind of childhood had he had? She’d assumed that silver spoon he’d been born with protected him from hurt.
“No, I wasn’t bad.” His smile faltered for an instant. “Some people just don’t like to do things with kids. You’re lucky to have Maggie.”
“And Mommy,” Joey said quickly. “Mommy always makes cookies with us.”
Robby’s face clouded. “I want Mommy.”
“She’ll be back soon,” Maggie said quickly, hoping to avert a storm. Robby, the youngest, cried the most over Nella’s absence, though all three of them were affected. “Soon. You’ll see.”
If they weren’t convinced, at least they didn’t argue the point. They wanted to believe in Nella’s return even more than Maggie did.
The children turned their attention back to the cookies. Maggie tried to watch Grant’s face without him catching her doing it.
What had just happened? Her neat preconceptions about the kind of life Grant had led had taken a serious jolt. She actually felt a twinge of sympathy for the man she’d thought had everything.
She glanced again at his classic, composed features. Only a little tension around his mouth suggested that he’d been bothered by that exchange, or that he’d said more about himself than he’d intended to.
But he had. He’d shown her a piece of Dr. Grant Hardesty that he probably didn’t often show to anyone.
Now how had that happened? Grant concentrated on pressing down the bell-shaped cookie cutter, because he didn’t want to look at Maggie.
He didn’t let other people know what he was feeling. Ever. All his friends got from him was what was on the surface.
If someone who’d known him since childhood was unwise enough to mention Jason, he ignored it. He had to. That was the only way he knew how to cope.
Carefully he shut thoughts of his brother back into the secret corner of his mind. Maggie didn’t know about Jason, and she never would. As for that little piece of truth about his relationship with his mother—well, she could make of it anything she wanted.
Still, he hadn’t expected to blurt that out. He could have deflected the child’s question. Maybe Button Gap was having an effect on him. Dr. Rawlins would probably be pleased at that. He wasn’t so s
ure that he was.
“Okay.” Maggie transferred the last cookie sheet to the oven and dusted her hands on her jeans. Judging by the looks of those jeans, she’d been doing that all afternoon. “You guys go to the bathroom and wash up while I clean the table. Then you can have cookies.”
That pronouncement resulted in a noisy stampede from the room. He could hear their feet thundering up the steps to the second floor.
“What about me?” He held out sticky hands. “Do I get sent upstairs, too?”
Maggie shook her head, smiling. “You can use the sink. I just wanted them out from underfoot while I clean up.” She glanced at the kitchen floor. “Although cleaning up might take more time than I have.”
He turned on the tap. “You have your hands full with those three, don’t you?”
“I’m doing all right.”
The thread of defensiveness in her voice made him turn to face her, hands under the stream of water.
“I wasn’t criticizing, Maggie. You’re a good person, to do so much for a friend.”
She studied his face for a moment, as if measuring his meaning, then shrugged. “People around here take care of each other.” She bent to scrub the sticky table surface, her shiny dark hair swinging down to hide her face. “That’s just the way it is.”
“I see that.” He leaned against the sink, drying his hands. Wondering. “Aunt Elly told me you lived with her for a time when you were a child.”
Her slim figure stilled. Was she surprised Aunt Elly had told him? Or was she just trying to think of a way of saying it was none of his business?
“That’s right, I did.” She swung to face him. “My family needed some help. Aunt Elly was there for us.”
The words had a ring of finality about them. She clearly didn’t intend to say more.
He was surprised at how much that annoyed him. Apparently she didn’t feel that his small admission of family frailty warranted any similar confidence from her.
She slid the cooled cookies onto a platter and set it on the table, then got out a pitcher of milk. She hesitated, her gaze fixed on the cookie plate for a moment, then glanced at him as if trying to decide something. The children’s feet thumped on the stairs.